


Thin Ice

by Trash_tzar



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Skating, Ice Skating, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-17 10:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15459132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_tzar/pseuds/Trash_tzar
Summary: Lance McClain has been on the senior circuit for three years, and has made a name for himself in the worst way possible. Three years of simple, botched programs and unearned arrogance have stained his record until he faded into obscurity at only 18. Meanwhile, South Korean skater Keith Kogane, also 18, is branded as the future of skating, and is one of many who have never heard Lance's name. Suddenly, Lance's career takes a turn to the unknown, as Keith Kogane's coach, Takashi Shirogane, insists that Lance comes to train under him. Keith and Lance immediately jump to each other's throats, their ambition and pride driving them against each other. As the new season begins, Lance must find a way to work alongside Keith, and pull his name from the mud, one ambitious routine at a time.





	1. A Bad Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> It's almost the skating season again so I'm releasing this thing I've been holding onto into the wild. No idea how long its gonna be but I'm ignoring all my other projects and have 5+ wiki tabs for this at any given time.   
> Update: I had very little idea how the Grand Prix worked when I wrote this so when we get into later chapters the story will probably change a bit. I'm just too lazy to go back and really fix it. Maybe one day.

Lance McClain sat in the bleachers of the Mediolanum Forum, as the men's free skate at the Milan World Championships wrapped up. He sighed as he rested his head on his hand, arm propped up on his knee. He hadn't even qualified for sectionals this year, which stung after his Grand Prix qualification last year, but even that wasn't a great run. He was supposed to have competed at the Internationaux de France before the Finals in Japan, but hadn't even made it out of Grenoble. He even made it to the Eastern sectional last year, even if he ended up so far down on the leaderboard people forgot he was even there.  
  
"Cheer up," chirped Pidge beside him, nudging him with their elbow. "We've got a long career ahead of us. You've got plenty of time to make it here". Easy for them to say. This was their first year in the senior circuit, and they had already made it to the Grand Prix finals this season. They were still coming off the high from a 6th place finish there, and their 5th at Eastern sectionals. Lance could only dream. Three years on the senior circuit and he hadn't even placed in the top ten at a competition like that. Pidge Holt had been his rinkmate since his junior days, both of them training under their coach, who they referred to exclusively as "Coach Hunk". A Grand Prix gold medallist himself in his day, Coach Hunk reached over to ruffle his hair.  
  
"Listen to Pidge, buddy. You'll be fine,"  
  
"Here he comes!" Gasped Pidge, tugging on Lance's jacket.  
  
A slim figure glided onto the ice to thunderous applause. Keith Kogane, South Korea's shining star. Lance and Kogane were the same age, with completely different stories. Kogane had made it to and medaled at Nationals all three years of his senior career, won silver at his first Grand Prix, gold the two consecutive years (this season included), and bronze at last season's Worlds. This season, he was the favorite for the top of the podium. The Prince of the Rink, they called him. Korea hadn't had a star like this since Yuna Kim, and never one in the men's division. He was ambitious and precise. His only flaw seemed to be that he was too ambitious, commonly changing his routines to a higher difficulty in the middle of a skate, usually against his coach's direction. Lance could see him from here; Takashi Shirogane, easily identifiable across the rink by the white tuft of hair. Shirogane was the best, and he trained the best. He leaned casually against the edge of the rink, as if he wasn't a Olympic silver medalist, or training the future of figure skating.  
  
Keith swung his arms out with a flourish, holding them straight out, with soft, gloved hands. His black costume shimmered as the lights hit the sheer cut outs and subtle glitter in the fabric. His shoulder length hair was swept back into a half ponytail, letting deep purple eyes stare forward at the judges without obstruction. He seemed to dare them to tell him he wasn't the best. The music started, and he burst forward. Kogane was all about power and passion. He demanded your attention and commanded the crowd. Lance watched him carefully.  
  
Lance checked the sheet him and Pidge had put together, outlining Kogane's long program. Kogane had four quads planned for his free skate. Three in the first half, one in the second. He usually only landed the first three, or turned the fourth into a triple. He was still so good that it usually didn't matter. Lance hated him, and was therefore obsessed with him. He watched Kogane's programs over and over, trying to see what he had that Lance couldn't master.  
  
His first jump, quad lutz and a triple toe loop. He landed as if on clouds, softly and effortlessly. The music was fast and loud, letting Kogane skate with all the speed and power he wanted. Lance watched his program intently, watching the way he put together his choreography, watching for the emotions he conveyed, for a story, for a change in the program. Kogane was famous for changes. Lance caught a bit of a snag at the very end of the first half, as Kogane's third quad, a salchow, became a triple. Lance had a feeling one of the triples in the second half of his program would become a quad. After a remarkable step sequence, Lance was proved right. A quadruple lutz appeared out of nowhere in the second half, perfectly, earning him an extra ten points. Lance saw Shirogane drag his hands down over his face as Kogane flew past him. Kogane continued to mesmerize, weaving the crowd into a story only he knew. The second half seemed to fly by until they felt the end draw near. A camel spin, and then the final quad that had eluded Kogane for most of the season. The whole rink seemed to hold it's breath as Kogane took off and-  
  
"Yes!" Lance cheered, rocketing to his feet. He saw the tiniest hint of celebration from Kogane, a single fist pump, after a perfect quadruple flip. Lance hated him, but couldn't help rooting for him. He didn't think anyone could. Kogane finished with a centered spin, before landing in a crouched position, with one leg sticking straight out, one hand on the ice, and the other held up at a diagonal from his shoulder. The crowd erupted, and flowers and hippo plushies rained down onto the ice. Kogane scooped up one of the plushies on his way out of the rink, breathing heavily, before launching himself into his coach's arms. Shirogane pulled away and gave Kogane a slight slap to the side of the head, but laughed all the way to the kiss and cry. The wait for the score to come seemed agonizingly long.  
  
"From South Korea," came the announcer's voice at last. The crowd went dead silent. "Keith Kogane has earned a 217.57 in the free skate, for a total score of 316.82. He is currently in first place," the end of the announcement was drowned out by the screaming of the crowd. They knew what that score meant. Keith Kogane had just won gold at the World Championships.  
  
Kogane, despite being known for his passionate skates, was not an emotional person. There was no excitement or celebration, just the tug of the corners of his mouth hinting at a smile before he bit down on his lip to hide the extent of it as his coach shook his shoulders. The excitement of seeing Kogane land his final quad had dissipated in Lance. Now there was only the bitter hatred for him he was used to. Lance would kill to be in his spot, and Kogane wouldn't even smile. Though, he had to admit, if there was one thing Lance and Kogane were neck and neck in, it was their arrogance. At least Kogane had earned his. He muttered some excuse to Pidge and Coach Hunk before slinking away, weaving through the crowd and trying to get out of there as fast as possible. His whole life, all he ever wanted was to skate, to live the life Keith Kogane was living now. But right now, he just wanted to go to bed.  
  
~~~  
  
Lance was up early the next morning. He had flirted with the girl at the front desk of the local ice skating rink enough that she was happy to let him in before opening hours, so he was off to the rink. He sailed out into the deserted rink with his headphones in, relishing the quiet and private time. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, letting the cold sting his nostrils. He slid around for a little bit, easing his frustrations into the ice as he waited for the next song in his playlist. When the music paused between songs, he glided to the middle of the rink, and wrapped his arms around himself.  
  
A slow song began to play, and he flowed gently into a routine. He had choreographed it himself, but not for competition. It was a hard routine, but the music let him pour his stress into his skates. It made the falls hurt less. And he fell a lot. He used to think about the choreography a lot; whether he wanted to do a lutz or a salchow here, or a triple or a quad there. Not that he could land a quad consistently enough to compete with them. But he had been doing this routine long enough that it was muscle memory. He let go, he let the world pass away around him.  
  
The subject of the story changed based on his frustration, but he would admit they centered mostly around Keith Kogane. His anger at Kogane's arrogance, his frustrations with Kogane's perfection, his sorrow at his own short comings. The quads were still shaky, but less troublesome when they didn't work. He had never showed or even mentioned this routine to Coach Hunk. Lance knew he would say it was too ambitious. Besides, this was for him. It wasn't competing or performing, it was about coming back to the one thing that gave him drive and comfort. He skated this routine just to skate.  
  
After drifting through the program in a daze, Lance ended with a twirl, throwing his arms out as he slid to a stop in the center of the rink. He breathed heavily and closed his eyes again as he let his arms drop to his sides. He sighed and took the headphones out, heading back out of the rink. He slid his skate protectors on, waved at the girl at the front desk through the window, then slipped through the door between the rink and the front room. As he entered, a person in a black hoodie left through the front doors. The hood was pulled up over their head, and they were gone before Lance had a chance to see a face.  
  
"Who was that?" Lance asked the girl. What was her name? Carolina? She shrugged.  
  
"He watched your skate," she said through her thick Italian accent, jabbing her thumb at the window. His mouth quirked into a puzzled frown as he pulled off his skates. He threw them in his bag before leaning up against the counter and letting his frown melt into a smile that spread like butter, making Carolina blush.  
  
"I'm leaving town this afternoon, but let me just say," one of his eyebrows shot up suggestively, "it's been a pleasure," she smiled and looked down at her hands.  
  
"If you skate in competition like you skate in there, I'm sure I'll see your name all over the place soon," she said through her smile, looking back up at him.  
  
"You know it, doll," he crooned. He winked at her, then headed out to the street, the smile disappearing as he headed back to his hotel. He doubted she'd hear his name ever again. No one else had. Stars like Keith Kogane and Allura Altea couldn't stroll down the street without hoards of fans on their tail, but as Lance walked by person after person, none of them even lifted their head to see him go.  
  
Back in the hotel, he spotted Pidge and Coach Hunk almost immediately. Coach Hunk was a tall guy, with dark skin and a black sweep of hair, while Pidge was short but constantly jumping around, blonde mop top appearing and disappearing in the crowd between them and Lance. The hotel lobby was beyond busy, as everyone who had come for the World Championships cleared out as fast as they could. Lance squeezed through the crowd over to Pidge and Coach Hunk, who sat with their luggage, his included.  
  
"Where'd you run off to?" Coach Hunk asked.  
  
"The chick at the ice skating rink down the street lets me in before opening," Lance responded, yawning.  
  
"Good for you. Now come on, we're gonna miss our plane,"  
  
The airport was busy, as he expected it would be, but there was an especially thick throng that Lance and his group were rapidly approaching on the way to their gate as their flight drew closer. While they were boarding, Lance's curiosity drew his eye to the crowd at the gate next to him to see Takashi Shirogane and Keith Kogane boarding, not 5 feet from him. Kogane glanced over at Lance while Shirogane stepped up to hand over his boarding pass, and their eyes met. Lance felt himself go beet red, but he couldn't look away. That was Keith Kogane looking at him. Kogane's eyes swept over him, head to toe, before he nodded slightly at Lance with a raised eyebrow and the hint of a smirk.  
  
"Lance? You okay?" Lance blinked a couple of times to clear his head and looked in front of him at Pidge, who was waiting next to a particularly frustrated hostess for Lance to hand over his boarding pass.  
  
"Yeah I just- it's nothing," he stammered. That moment was his, and he had never been known for being good at sharing. He glanced back over to the other gate, but Kogane was gone. He handed over his boarding pass and scurried onto the plane, ready for home, but strangely disappointed that that was probably as close to Keith Kogane as he was ever going to get.  
  
Half an hour later, Lance was looking down on Milan on the way home to Florida. He was going to have to hear about Kogane's win for the whole year, especially since Olympic qualifiers were coming up this year. But something was different as he left. The closer to home they got, the more determined he was. This season had been the worst of his life, but something told him something big was going to change this coming season. He was going to work harder, train longer, skate faster. He was going to Nationals, and nothing was going to stop him.


	2. Desicions, Desicions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change is on the wind for Lance, as a prestigious stranger arrives to offer him the chance of a lifetime. Lance, of course, can't make up his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup have this boring transitional chapter that was a drag to write but essential to the story so sorry

It had been three months since the World Championships. Lance had been on the ice almost everyday since he got back from Milan, but nothing seemed to ever get better. Quads still stayed tantalizingly out of his reach, and it seemed the more he worked the sloppier his triples were "No, no," Coach Hunk would tell him, "You can't focus so much on your quads that you lose everything else. Do it again, take out the quad," but Lance never listened. The quad stayed until he got it right. He loved Coach Hunk. He really did. He was a fantastic skater in his time, and a great coach after he retired and put on some weight while he "enjoyed all the finer things ice skating hid behind red tape", and an excellent chef. There was just something about the way he taught and the way Lance learned that didn't click.

One June afternoon, Lance had convinced Pidge and Coach Hunk to use what should have been a lazy Sunday as a training session. Hunk was spending some time with Pidge on their new short program, so Lance took the opportunity to practice some of his more ambitious jumps. The triple axles were there, but a little sloppy. He tried, and tried, and tried again for that quadruple loop, but it avoided him mercilessly. Lance was in the zone, and that meant there was nothing that he saw that wasn't him and the ice. He leaned against the edge of the rink, panting. This was the one. He told himself that everytime he tried, but this was the one. He hadn't consistently landed any kind of quad all summer, but this was it. He pushed himself off the edge, gaining speed as he neared the other end of the rink. Then he was lifting up off the ice, one, two, three, four rotations. Stick the landing, stick the landing He landed, low, one footed, and without touching the ice, arms outstretched. His free leg swept straight and smoothly behind him as he turned, smiling ridiculously, to his coach, who was smiling proudly next to Pidge, who was clapping.

"That's the best one you've landed all summer!" Coach Hunk reminded him proudly. It was only when the elated buzzing in his ears faded that he realized that Pidge was not the only one clapping. He looked over to the edge of the rink by the locker room, and saw Pidge's older brother who ran the rink, Matt, and -

"Takashi Shirogane!" Pidge breathed, dumb struck. Lance instantly recognized the white tuft of hair, the scar across his nose from an accident in his ice dance days, and the prosthetic that marked him as the only amputee to compete outside the Special Olympics. This was, really, Takashi Shirogane, world famous Japanese Olympic silver medalist, and coach of Keith Kogane. Shirogane smiled warmly as he took to the ice.

"Shiro!" Exclaimed Coach Hunk sliding over to him.

"Hunk! It's been awhile, hasn't it? The Grand Prix of-"

"I, uh, don't think we need to remind the kids how old I am," Hunk laughed. Shirogane smiled at him, laughter in his eyes.

"Fair enough," "So what can I do for you? I doubt you came all the way out to Florida just to say hello to me," "Why don't you introduce me to your students?"

"Oh yeah! Of course!" Hunk motioned them over. Pidge and Lance skated very slowly to Hunk's side. He threw an arm over each of them proudly. "This is Pidge," he patted their shoulder, "first year on the senior circuit, and made it to the Grand Prix final!" Pidge beamed. "And this is Lance," he continued, shaking Lance's shoulders a little bit. "Made it to the Eastern sectional and the Grand Prix last year. He's got a good career in front of him," Hunk promised. He knew as well as Lance did that at this rate he didn't have a career in front of him, period.

"That was a nice quadruple loop, Lance," Shirogane said kindly.

"Thanks!" Lance said, breathlessly, Takashi Shirogane just complimented him. But the awe faded as he remembered what he must look like compared to Kogane. "You just happened to make it to the only one this summer," he huffed. Shirogane tilted his head, studying Lance. He didn't seem entirely disappointed with what he saw.

"You look like a hardworker," Shirogane supposed.

"One of the most dedicated I've ever worked with," Hunk told Shirogane seriously. "He's a bit of a perfectionist and is too hard on himself, but that's just because he loves this sport more than anything,"

"Sounds just like Keith," Shirogane chuckled. Lance's heart stuttered a bit. How could anything about him be 'just like Keith'? "How'd your season go, Lance?" Lance's face soured.

"Ugh," he responded simply.

"That bad?"

"My worst ever. My local qualifier was only just good enough for regionals. And that was a disaster. If you want to hear about a a good season," he pointed to Pidge, "ask about theirs."

"I'm sure it was a wonderful season, and 6th is something to really be proud of," he assured them, smiling at Pidge, who looked like they were about to pass out because oh my god Takashi Shirogane knew what their ranking was without having to tell him, "but I'm here for you," he finished, looking back at Lance. Lance froze. What about him would be capable of bringing Takashi Shirogane to a middle of nowhere town in Florida?

"A friend of mine saw you skate in Milan," Shirogane explained.

"I- I told you, I didn't even make it to-" "Not at the Forum, at the ice rink over by the Mariott," Lance suddenly remembered the person in the black hoodie, who left right before him.

"Who's your friend?" Lance asked, curiosity always getting the better of him.

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that I trust he knows talent when he sees it," Shriogane assured him, more serious by the second. "We did some research, and he says that none of the routines you've done match up to the one he saw,"

"I've never competed with it," Lance admitted sheepishly.

"Why?"

"I didn't tell Coach Hunk about it. I knew he'd think it was too ambitious for me."

"Come on Lance," Coach Hunk interjected gently, "You never know-"

"Its got three quads. One's a flip."

"You know me well, buddy," he sighed.

"You choreographed it yourself?" Shiro asked, smiling slightly with a lifted eyebrow. Lance nodded hesitantly, hands going behind his back to pick at his cuticles. "I've seen a lot of your stuff now, Lance. I think you've got some serious potential, you just need to find the right way to pull it out," Shirogane insisted. "Keith was the same way. A lot of power, no refinement". Lance glanced over at Hunk and Pidge, who were looking like they knew where Shirogane was going with this, but Lance didn't have a clue.

"I want you to come to Salt Lake City and train under me." Lance essentially choked on air. There was no way this could be happening. "You're an underdog, I know, but those are the best skaters to work with. They have a hunger unlike anyone who started at the top,"

"Mr. Shirogane- sir-" Lance stuttered

"Shiro, please," Shiro insisted

"Shiro," Lance began, shakily, "If anyone up top knows my name, it's because I'm so bad at this, I can only seem to do the bare minimum to scrape into the upper level competitions. All the commentators make fun of me, even Coran Alfor makes fun of me, and he's, like, the nicest commentator out there. I'm not an underdog, I'm a flop." Lance's hands were curled into fists at his side, shaking. Shiro had waited patiently for Lance to finish.

"If you believed you were a flop, you wouldn't be working this hard," Shiro said softly, "but I understand. I'm heading back to Salt Lake in a week, and I have an extra ticket for you. I'm at the closest hotel to this rink. If you decide you want to come, come let me know. If not, you can stay here. Alright?"

"Mmhm," Lance squeaked, finally grasping the magnitude of the offer, and suddenly unable to speak. "Think about it, ok?"

"Mmhm."

~~~~

The next week consisted of zero training for Lance. Mostly because he spent it locked up in his tiny apartment in Little Havana doing some soul searching. And maybe because he was trying to avoid Hunk and Pidge's wrath if he started leaning towards the "I'm not going" part of the spectrum. Eventually, the dreaded time came. He had to leave the apartment to buy groceries. He'd spent the last five days secluded, living off his last grocery run, but today he had to _shower_ and _get dressed_ and _drag himself from his wallowing at eight in the morning._

He shrugged his jacket on and shoved his reusable grocery bags under his arm, purposefully avoiding looking at the mirror sitting on the wall over the side table, knowing that the combination of wet hair and under eye bags would make him look as ragged and unsure as he felt. Opening the door, however, changed his plans entirely. A bundle of blonde and green fell backwards into his apartment. Pidge Holt stared up at him from the floor, sleepily blinking behind their bottlecap glasses.

"Hey," they said nonchalantly.

"Dude. Did you sleep there?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"You didn't answer your door." Lance suddenly vaguely remembered someone knocking on his door while he binged watched something on Netflix in the other room before he turned the volume up to ignore it.

"Yeah, ok, but why stay?"

"I was worried about you," they said simply. Lance sighed and put his bags on the side table, crouching down next to Pidge, still laying on the floor.

"You're a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, but your favorite," they smiled, pushing themselves up into a sitting position before jumping up to their feet. "I'm gonna raid your fridge, and then we're gonna talk," they informed Lance, pulling out a phone and shooting a quick text. "And Coach Hunk is bringing cookies."

An hour later, Lance, Pidge, and Coach Hunk were all jammed into Lance's one shitty couch, passing a tub of cookies back and forth.

"You have to go," Pidge insisted.

"I really don't."

"That was Takashi Shirogane offering you a place next to Keith Kogane. You dont turn that down."

"They're right, you know," Coach Hunk agreed with a cookie stuffed into one cheek. "Shiro knows what he's doing."

"Look, I dont know what Shiro _thinks_ he's doing, but there's no way I am what he thinks I am."

"Lance McClain," Hunk said, shifting to better face Lance and waving a cookie accusingly, "Your potential is ridiculous. You need refinement, and I consider it my greatest failure that I couldn't give that to you."

"You can be better than I am, Lance," Pidge admitted begrudgingly, "and Shiro can make that real. You have to go." Lance sighed as the cookie tub was passed to him. He picked one out, tossing it between his hands pensively. This was everything a kid in this business could dream of, so why was he so opposed to taking this opportunity? He'd been wrestling with that question for the last five days.

"You're scared," Coach Hunk answered him, as if he could hear Lance's thoughts. "Of course you are, but you have to do it anyways. If you're too scared to take big chances because you think they'll see you're some kind of failure, you don't belong in this business." Lance shoved the cookie in his mouth defeatedly.

"I hate arguing with you guys," he grumbled around the cookie. Pidge smiled wide, reading Lance's admission in his body language.

"You need to start packing!" They chirped, continuing to chatter away as they hopped off the couch and ran into Lance's room, presumably to begin Lance's packing process for him.

"This is gonna be good for you," Hunk promised, leaning forward to fill the gap Pidge left and resting a hand on Lance's shoulder. "Really. I promise you." Lance smiled nervously, stomach turning as he considered the life altering choice he was making. Maybe he should start helping Pidge pack.


	3. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance settles into his new home, and comes face to face with a legend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-uploaded because reasons. This one's shorter than then the last, but hey at least Keith's here

Two days later, Lance is at baggage claim in Salt Lake City. Two massive suitcases packed with everything Lance figured he could get through security from his apartment came rolling around, and it took both him and Shiro to haul them off in time. It kept hitting Lance like a truck. That's Takashi Shirogane, his coach. His coach.   
  
Shiro chatted away with Lance about their current living situation as they made their way towards pick up, where they were ordering an Uber. Shiro and Kogane shared a small house on the outskirts of the city, with two bedrooms and what used to be a spare, but was about to be Lance's living space for the foreseeable future. Kogane was out on tour with Stars on Ice for the month, so Shiro and Lance would have some one on one time before he got back.  
  
Lance scrolled through his phone in nervous silence in the car, unsure of what kind of conversation one strikes up with a living legend who whisks you away from home on a fantastic adventure and last ditch effort to save your career. He may or may not have been reading news clips about Kogane.  
  
"Kogane's switching to the US team?" Lance breathed incredulously, stopping mid scroll. Kogane hadnt skated for the US since his junior days.  
  
"Mmhm," Shiro responded looking up from his phone. "And he's got a bye till nationals, so he'll be helping me coach you a little bit until then."  
  
"I'm sorry, what?" Lance exclaimed. He had already swallowed his pride a ridiculous amount to accept this offer in the first place, but now he was expected to take pointers from a rival? It had been humiliating enough to try to accept tips from Pidge, but something about this was worse.  
  
"Keith is an experienced skater, and very similar to you. It'll be good for both of you."  
  
Lance groaned and sank into his seat, chin hooking onto the seatbelt.  
  
"Dont do that," Shiro scolded lightly. "We're here."  
  
Lance shot back up. The house was modest, almost cottage-like. It was an off-white, with wooden beaming and trim on the outside and a door of dark wood, with a silver knocker. It was adorable, and totally not what he was expecting.   
  
Shiro patted Lance's shoulder confidently. "You'll settle in fast, I promise." Lance needed to start keeping track of all these promises people were making him.   
  
Shiro helped him drag his suitcases up the front steps.  
  
"Jesus, did you manage to fit your entire apartment in here?" Shiro teased, barely breaking a sweat.  
  
"I wish," Lance huffed, struggling with his bag.  
  
"What did you end up doing with your apartment?"  
  
"Pidge was looking for a new place anyway."  
  
They managed to get the suitcases up and through the front door, and the inside was almost more charming than out. The main living room was painted a cream color, with light wooden side tables and an open yellow kitchen. Two grey L shaped couches surrounded a modest sized flat screen TV, decked with teal and coral throw pillows and soft looking ottomans. Sheer curtains floated over windows and a glass sliding door on the other side of the room, through which Lance could catch a glimpse of a well manicured garden.  
  
"The bedrooms are upstairs," Shiro said cheerily. Lance groaned and slumped forward onto his suitcase.  
  
"Seriously?" He whined.  
  
"The more you whine, the more time we're going to spend in the gym," Shiro told him in a sing song voice. Lance stifled another sigh and started to haul the suitcase up a set of stairs set against the right wall, perpendicular to the door. The upstairs was a little smaller than downstairs, consisting of a single hallway with four doorways along it. The first door was covered in various stickers. Some were skating puns, others were logos of what Lance assumed were Shiro's high school and college, but most of them were rainbow flags and other various pride symbols. The next door was slightly ajar, previewing a light teal and white accented bathroom with a few incense sticks in a vase on top of the toilet tank. The third was plain, except for being wrapped in "Police Line - Do Not Cross" tape.  
  
"Keith put that up when we first moved here, back in his 'edgy' junior days," Shiro said, smiling fondly. "He never got around to taking it down."  
  
Shiro pushed open the last door in the hall, revealing a sky blue room with a queen sized bed in all white bedding, and the same sheer curtains from downstairs over a window with a view of the garden.  
  
"And this one's yours," Shiro chirped, setting Lance's suitcase down proudly. "This was pretty much a storage room for most of the time we've been here. I cleaned it out right before I left to pick you up. Just in case," he finished with a wink at Lance, making him blush just a little. He was still getting over the idea of living with talented, famous, ridiculously attractive Shiro.   
  
"You have an hour to get your basics sorted out, then we're hitting the gym," Shiro told him cheerfully, patting him on the shoulder before leaving the room, whistling down the hall. Lance let out a breath he hadnt realized he was holding. This was real, and happening fast. Suddenly, his nerves gave way to excited jitters. This was real. He was training with the best, and he was going to be the best. He had forgotten why he had hesitated. Instead of unpacking, he threw the backpack he had been carrying around onto the bed, and raced downstairs.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
~~~~  
  
A month passed. Lance, who had been used to dragging Coach Hunk and Pidge to the rink on the weekends, was pleased to find Shiro cheerfully obliging him. They were waiting for Kogane to get back before they started the routines for the next season, so it was a month of drills, dance class, and gym days. Lance came home sweaty, exhausted, and generally elated. He was in better shape than he had ever been, with Shiro pushing him way harder than he had ever been pushed, and a much more regimented diet. His skating, too, was at an all time best. His triples were solid, and more and more often he landed his quads. They were still inconsistent at best, but getting there. For once, he felt good. Confident, optimistic. It had been awhile since he had felt that.   
  
He was allowed a cheat day every other week, and generally spent it vegging out on the couch with Shiro, movie watching and cookie binging. This particular cheat day was spent with a couple boxes of Safeway donuts, homemade white chocolate chip peanut butter cookies, and the Lord of the Rings extended box set. It was about midday, and Lance was still drowsy from just waking up, dozing a little on his couch. Shiro lounged on the other couch in his pajamas, bowl of Captain Crunch in hand. They had been pushing extra hard this week, so this was an extra special crash.  
  
As the Fellowship left Rivendale, the lock on the door clicked. Lance sat bolt upright as a dark haired boy just slightly taller than him, looking jet lagged and disheveled with his hair in a messy ponytail, whole sections slipping out and over his face, walked through the door.  
  
"Keith!" Shiro exclaimed happily, waving from his spot on the couch. "Welcome home, buddy!"  
  
Keith Kogane stretched his mouth taught in what Lance assumed was a tired smile. He dropped his duffle bag by the door and shuffled over to the couches.  
  
"Lord of the Rings again?" He teased tiredly.  
  
"You know it's my favorite," Shiro shrugged. Lance sat with his hands in his lap, nervously fidgeting and glancing between Kogane and the floor. He replayed every routine he had ever seen Keith do in his mind, remembered every interview and acclaim, and while he had trouble reconciling the image of the glorious victor in his mind and the tired teenager in front of him, he was acutely aware that he was sitting in front of a legend.  
  
"So you're the new kid, huh?" Kogane finally addressed him, looking down at him through his hair. His features were delicate and pointed, but his eyes were fiery and determined, if not a little exhausted. "Keith Kogane," he introduced himself, reaching out a hand. Lance's breath hitched. Keith Kogane was, like Shiro, talented, famous, and ridiculously attractive. This was his teammate, his partner, his rival.  
  
"Lance McClain," Lance muttered back, reaching up to shake it. Kogane's hands were as soft as they looked, though firm. He seemed to Lance to be a mess of contradictions like this. He wondered why he hadnt seen that softer side in Kogane's routines. Keith slumped onto the couch beside Shiro, reaching over to steal the spoon from Shiro's bowl and take a bite.  
  
"You okay?" Lance asked, forcing himself to try to be casual despite the anxious acceleration of his pulse, watching the almost defeated slump of Kogane's shoulders.  
  
"I dont sleep well on planes," he shrugged, "or on the road," he yawned, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"That's rough, buddy."  
  
"Mmhm," Kogane mumbled, leaning his head on Shiro's shoulder. Shiro patted Kogane's knee sympathetically. It was clear to anyone that these two had a special kind of bond. They were more than coach and skater, they were family.   
  
Keith slept practically the whole day, only leaving the couch in the evening to trudge up to his room and continue sleeping. Lance spent the evening pinning up the last of his posters. Partially posters of skaters, but also band posters and art prints. His poster wall had been an essential part of his apartment back home, and he couldnt bear to leave it.  
  
The next morning Lance was up bright and early as per usual, showering quickly before heading downstairs in his shorts, shirt slung over his shoulder and drying his hair as he trotted down the stairs. Downstairs, Kogane was doing pullups on a bar he had wedged into the doorframe of the downstairs bathroom. If Lance had remembered he was back, he probably would have at least put a shirt on. Kogane dropped from the bar, hair pulled tightly back, and muscular arms glistening with sweat exposed by the tight black tank top he was wearing. Kogane put his hands on his hips and looked up, making eye contact with Lance, who had stopped dead in his tracks, still holding his towel to his head. They looked each other up and down nervously, both frozen in awkwardness, as Lance tried to ignore the outline of Kogane's abs through the shirt and felt Kogane's eyes raking over him.  
  
They snapped out of it at the same time, blushing profusely. Lance muttered something about breakfast, headed towards the kitchen, as Keith muttered something about his jacket and headed for the stairs in the opposite direction.   
  
Shiro was leaning against the wall of the kitchen, coffee in hand, smiling knowingly.  
  
"What?" Lance said defensively. Shiro shook his head.  
  
"You'll get used to each other eventually. Be quick with breakfast, we've got a special guest at the rink today," Shiro instructed, downing the rest of his coffee.  
  
"This is going to be fun."


	4. Stick to Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training really begins, now that a prestigious retired skater has turned up as their choreographer and Lance and Keith share the ice for the first time.

Arriving at the rink ten minutes later, Keith hadnt said a word to Lance since breakfast. Shiro pulled an earbud out of Keith's ear as they passed through the front doors and Lance tailed behind nervously. He always knew, of course, that Shiro and Kogane would come with connections high up in the skating hierarchy all over the world, but the idea of a surprise guest made him really think about that. He was still a nobody, not even the skating tabloids had gotten a whiff of his affiliation of with Shiro and Keith (outside of Shiro having a new pupil thanks to some Shiro-mandated stealth), and here he was, about to meet who knows, but certainly someone important, and way out of his league.  
  
Lance's hands shook as he laced up, ready to strangle Kogane as the unrelenting sound of casual, open mouthed gum chewing battered against his thoughts. Keith stood up and ambled out to the rink, gloved hands in the pockets of his jeans. Shiro smacked him in the back of the head softly as he passed.  
  
"Spit it out," he scolded.  
  
"Mmhm," Keith responded indignantly, still snacking as he left. Shiro rolled his eyes, and looked back over at Lance.  
  
"You okay, kid?" He asked. Lance stood up, mimicking Kogane's casual stance by sliding his hands in the pockets of his jacket and assuming an offhand air.  
  
"Oh yeah, of course," he dismissed easily. Shiro chuckled and shook his head.  
  
"Dont worry, you're going to love her," Shiro promised before following Kogane out of the locker room. Her? Lance started running through the list of high ranking female skaters as he absently wandered out.  
  
The woman he found out on the ice was the last one he expected. A black woman with silver hair glid across the ice. A British Grand Prix, Worlds, and Olympic gold medalist. A living legend.   
  
"Lance McClain, our choreographer, Allura Altea," Shiro introduced her dramatically as she skated over with a soft smile.  
  
"Pleasure to meet you," her voice was lilting and gentle as she reached out her hand for a shake.  
  
"The pleasure's all mine," he said with a cocky smirk and fake confidence as he shook her hand, trying to repress the frantic beating of his heart. Her freckle spattered nose crinkled when she smiled, and her blue eyes sparkled with amusement. She was easily the most beautiful woman Lance had ever met.  
  
"Shall we start?" She chirped, clapping her hands together. She shed her powder blue parka, revealing a white t-shirt and lean, muscled arms. She pulled a layer of dreads back, tying it out of her face and exposing her black roots before she glided over to Keith. Lance swallowed hard with a mix of awe, intimidation, and attraction and slid over to them. He moved over beside Keith, careful to leave a healthy space between them. They may be training together, but this was still the Prince of the Ice, and Lance was still nobody. Still, if Kogane was the Prince, Allura was the Queen. She turned to Lance.  
  
"Since Shiro told me about you, I've of course done my research," she smiled at him with her hands on her hips, "and I'm sure Shiro's already mentioned this, but I've seen plenty of similarities between you and Keith's early skating."  
  
Lance cringed. Here he was, three years into his senior career, and he was still the "before" to Kogane's "after".  
  
"So I have a challenge for both of you," she smiled. Kogane narrowed his eyes at her, and Lance's hands went behind his back to fidget nervously. "I'll indulge your aggressive tendencies for your short program," her smile took on a more devious quality, "but your free skates will be slow, intricate, and sincere." Kogane groaned and rolled his head back. "Don't give me that, Keith," she scolded.  
  
"What I do works," Kogane countered indignantly. Lance bit his lip in shock and anxiety. He couldn't imagine talking back to anyone even close to Allura's pristiege. "You should know, you choreographed it. If it's not broken, don't fix it."  
  
"Keith," Shiro barked from outside the ring. "Watch your mouth." Allura scowled at Kogane.   
  
"Challenging you is my job, and Shiro's too. It only makes you better. Besides, I don't hear Lance complaining," she snapped.  
  
"I am immensely afraid of you," Lance blurted, before mentally slamming his head on a table. Allura gave him a big smile, giggling a little.  
  
"As you should be!" Shiro called, laughing.  
  
"I like him," Allura called back to Shiro, pointing at Lance and still smiling. Lance smiled a little bit, relieved and blushing. Kogane groaned and rolled his eyes.  
  
"So you're a kiss ass, huh?" He sneered at Lance. Lance's smile vanished, his jaw clenched, and his blush only got worse. But instead of shrinking away, his shoulders shot back and a sneer crept across his face.  
  
"Oh, so we're doing this? Right now?" Lance snapped back. Generally, he was a nervous person, but no one reacted to confrontation as poorly as he did.  
  
"Stop that," Allura scolded, hands on her hips and scowling. "Now, I have your short programs mostly ready, but I need a little more time on your free skates. It seems I have a few modifications to make. Lance, let's start with you."  
  
Keith skated off with his hands in his pockets. He shot a glare over his shoulder at Lance before Shiro grabbed him by the bicep and dragged him off to the locker room.  
  
"Sorry about him," Allura apologized with a soft smile.  
  
"It's fine, really," Lance insisted. "I'm encroaching on his territory. I dont really..." he sighed, "I dont really belong here."  
  
"You will," Allura told him confidently. "Between me and Shiro, we'll make you a worthy rival for Keith. I promise."  
  
The next hour resulted in the most ambitious short program Lance had ever had. He usually stuck to a double axle, which Allura upgraded to a triple, and gave him a two triple combination jump, rather than his normal triple double.  
  
"You're not ready for quads in a short program yet," Allura had told him, "but you still need to prove yourself. You'll get your quads in your free skate."  
  
The next hour was Keith's, so Lance retreated to the locker room for a drink, Shiro at his heels.  
  
"I'm sorry about Keith," Shiro apologized once they were out of the rink. "He's territorial. At best."  
  
"You guys don't need to keep apologizing for him, seriously," Lance sighed. "Honestly, I get it. But you might regret bringing me here." Shiro sighed in an almost sad way and moved over to ruffle Lance's hair. Lance went stiff, a little thrown off by physical affection, especially from Shiro. Shiro had become an almost fatherly figure to him over the last month, being, you know, the only person he really interacted with, but it still caught him off gaurd.  
  
"I was serious earlier. You'll get used to each other. I-"  
  
"You promise," Lance sighed again. "Sure."  
  
Three hours later, Lance was ready to die. Shiro had taken over after Kogane and Allura's hour, and the man pushed. Lance hadn't realized it then, but Shiro had been going easy on him last month. Jump after jump after jump. Lance was headed for the locker room when Allura caught him by the arm.  
  
"Lance, if I could get a moment with you?" She asked brightly pulling him out towards the center of the ice, and making a shooing motion with her hand when Kogane gave them a suspicious look over his shoulder before disappearing into the locker room.   
  
"When I spoke to Shiro about you, he mentioned that you had choreographed a routine for yourself," she began quietly. Lance looked down at his feet and picked at the ice with the front of his skate in embarrassment. She was about to tell him to leave the choreography to her, and keep his head out of the clouds. "I'd like you to write it down for me, song included." His head jolted back up, brows knit in confusion.  
  
"I- what?"  
  
"I think what a skater choreographs for themselves is a wonderful indicator of themselves as a person. Especially if it's private," she smiled. "Your public style is more aggressive, and I was just wondering if that was true of this routine too."  
  
"No," he muttered, glancing away from her. That routine was more intimate, and something that he had never shared.  
  
"Then I'd like to try to work some of it into your free skate, at least the song," she told him confidently. "I have a few ideas that I'm pretty attached to, but I'd like to work in some of that personality when I can. If you would, I'd like you to write it out for me tonight and have it back to me tomorrow." Lance stared at her in bewilderment. Of course, he was sure she wouldn't keep much of it anyway, but he... almost like that idea. Instead of starting from scratch, he would have a foothold into the musicality, the emotion, the story. And maybe it would be good for him to expose that piece of himself, rather than mask it in arrogance and aggression.  
  
"I mean, of course, if you really want it," he agreed hesitantly.  
  
"Than it's settled," she decided, clapping her hands together. "I'm excited to see what you've come up with."  
  
~~~  
  
The next morning, Lance fidgeted with the folded up piece of notebook paper in his pocket. A routine he knew by heart, years of refinement and emotion, all tucked away in four folds, ready to be passed over for the first time. Listening to it last night, he found it was less sad, and closer to a nostalgia, a longing.  
  
Allura was waiting for them outside the rink, smiling as brightly as the day before. She held the door for them, Lance entering last. She grabbed his arm as he passed.   
  
"Did you bring me what I asked for?" She asked casually, still smiling.  
  
"Oh, yeah, um," he fumbled the piece of paper out of his pocket. She picked the paper out of his hands, unfolded it, and skimmed it seriously. As she read, one eyebrow slowly lifted.  
  
"Ambitious," she said simply. Lance tightened his jaw, his instinct to defend himself stronger than his doubt.  
  
"I am," he responded coldly. Allura slowly smiled.  
  
"Good."  
  
Just then, Shiro poked his head out the front door.  
  
"So what's the plan?" He asked  
  
"Start with drilling them on those short routines," Allura told him. "I need a little bit to finalize Lance's skate." She gave Lance one last look, almost one of pride, and disappeared inside. Shiro gave him a questioning look before gesturing him inside.  
  
Keith was already on the ice, skating in circles, periodically trying out a jump. Each was smooth, and perfect, and casual, and made Lance hate him even more. When Kogane saw Lance and Shiro, he skidded to a stop in front of the gate. Shiro glid past him, but he was watching Lance.  
  
"What was that about?" Keith asked suspiciously.  
  
"None of your business," Lance snapped, embarrassed, stomping past Kogane without looking at him.  
  
Shiro threw them straight into their routines, letting Keith go first. Lance paced nervously. What did Allura think of his routine? Did she hate it? Would she even keep the song? He looked up from the floor in time to see Keith attempt his quadruple loop triple toe loop combo and -  
  
Crash. His triple toe loop took off on his inside edge, and wiped him out. Lance watched in complete shock. He hadn't seen Keith flutz a triple since his first year on the senior circuit, much less a toe loop. Kogane scrunched up his nose in frustration before Shiro skated over and helped him off the ice. He brushed himself off and then looked up to see Lance staring. Kogane's face immediately became a glare that Lance, to his amazement, recognized immediately. It was one he had shot at Coach Hunk and Pidge innumerable times. It was angry, it was self conscious. For the first time Lance had ever seen, Keith Kogane was a real person.   
  
Kogane finally looked away from Lance after what seemed like forever, and took a lap around the rink, shaking his muscled arms out before he reached the same spot as before, and nailed his combination. He skidded to a halt, and turned back to Lance, this time with a gloating smile. Lance gritted his teeth and curled his lip, though it was more performative than sincere.   
  
"Keith," Shiro scolded, noticing the silent confrontation. "Finish it."  
  
Kogane tore his eyes away and continued with his routine. Perfect once again to Lance's eyes.  
  
"Sloppy," Shiro decided as Kogane finished the routine, breathing heavily.  
  
"I know," Kogane panted. Lance exhaled defeatedly. If Kogane was sloppy, Shiro was going to rip into Lance.  
  
"We'll try again later," Shiro decided. "Take a breather. Lance!" Shiro called cheerfully, gesturing Lance onto the ice. Once Kogane was out of sight, Lance took a deep, quavering breath. This was not going to go well.  
  
"Relax," Shiro comforted him. "You know, you're not really watching him." Lance looked at him in confusion. Shiro shook his head.  
  
"You see Keith Kogane before you see the skater," Shiro explained unhelpfully. "You see him as the prince of the ice, so you only notice when he messes up when he really messes up. You don't see the little flaws that every skater has. You admire him, whether you like it or not, and it blinds you." Lance's mouth twisted in reluctant understanding.  
  
"Don't get me wrong, though," Shiro smiled deviously, "I'm not going to go any easier on you than I do on him. Get going." Lance took another deep breath and skated into the center of the ring.  
  
It was going well, honestly. He opened with a triple flip (even though he hated his execution, it was there), flying spin, step sequence, triple loop triple toe loop, upright to camel spin. No problem. Clean, almost... elegant. His triple axle was the problem. He took off, and immediately knew he had flutzed it. He came crashing onto the ground. He banged his fist on the ground in frustration.  
  
"You and Keith," Shiro scoffed good naturedly. "Such tempers. C'mon, up you get." Shiro's hand wrapped around Lance's bicep and lifted him up, without Lance having to do too much, actually.  
  
"You gave up on your triple flip." Shiro pointed out. "You took off a little awkwardly, and you let that affect you the rest of the routine. It's why your step sequence was sloppy, why your combo was so flat, and why you didnt land your axle." Lance looked away, embarrassed.   
  
"This is what we need to work through," Shiro insisted, grabbing Lance's shoulders and dipping his head to meet Lance's eyes. "You can't give up. You can't decide that the rest doesnt matter, because they've already judged you on that first thing. You. Keep. Going."  
  
"You're not going to compare me to Keith?" Lance muttered bitterly.  
  
"You're not Keith."  
  
"Done!" Allura called, waltzing out of the locker room, Keith trailing behind her, eyeing Shiro and Lance suspiciously. Shiro released Lance, and they skated over to Allura, Shiro more excited than Lance.  
  
"Keith, I caved a little bit for you. The song is definitely aggressive," Allura began. Keith tried to conceal a smile. Lance was starting to notice that Keith smiled almost constantly. Which was weird after years of watching a stone cold Kogane. He was famous for never smiling.  
  
"You're not off the hook though," Allura continued. "It's aggressive, but it's a little slower, and you really need to bring it with your musicality, and emotions." Keith's nose crinkled.  
  
"Technically, you're fantastic, but we've never quite been able to loosen you up and get you to really feel the music. Third time's the charm, yeah?" Allura encouraged. Keith sighed heavily. Thinking back on it, Allura had a point. He was about as cold on the ice as he was on TV, but his technicality really made up for it. "Take a look at this." Allura smiled sweetly and handed Keith the piece of paper his routine was on.   
  
"We'll run it in a bit, but first I have to test some things for Lance's routine." Keith nodded, glancing between Allura and Lance. Allura put in a headphone, and pulled out her phone, presumably queuing up his song.  
  
"Clear the ice."


End file.
